Timer

I shut the door to my apartment and walk slowly pass the shattered glass and abandoned cleaning products, making my way to the bathroom. I stand silently in front of the mirror for a few minutes before a tear slips from my left eye.

‘I can’t do this anymore’ I whisper to myself before I sob uncontrollably, reaching for the first blade inside of the empty pill bottle, digging it into my wrist deeper than ever.

“You disgusting fuck. You horribly little shit. No wonder they all fucking died! They wanted to! With the disgusting fuck of a son like you!”

“NO FUCKING WONDER YOU HAVE NOBODY. NOT EVEN YOUR SOULMATE LIKES YOU” I scream to myself, my face reddening and my eyes becoming bloodshot; the blood from my wrist creating a puddle at my feet. I take the razor to my neck, pressing it in lightly.

“Please stop this” I mumble to myself, shaking.

“NO. YOU DESERVE THIS. WHO’S FAULT IS IT THE CAR CRASHED? YOURS. NO WONDER HE ABUSED YOU. YOU’RE GETTING EVERYTHING YOU’VE EARNED” I wail at the bloody man in the mirror. The blade jabs into my neck deeper than I thought it would.
Gritting my teeth and rocking backwards and forward, I pull the small knife out and shove it back in, angrier at myself then ever. In, drag and out. This continues for as long, as I can stand and see. Using the little strength I have left, I drag myself into the bedroom and collapse onto the perfect white bed.
My blood quickly turning it red.
I hear a scream of my name. Ayva. Shit, what is she doing here? She was meant to be at work. Of course, she remembered that today was the day I meet Jack. She most probably expected him and I to be having a nice conversation over a cup of coffee, not me on my death bed.
"ZACK. OH DEAR LORD ZACK STAY STILL I'M GOING TO CALL AN AMBULANCE" She shrieked. It's the last thing I hear before I shut my eyes and slept.
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Slowly drifting into consciousness all I can see is white. Not a soft white, not at all, it's the kind of white you see inside a mental asylum. Am I dead? Is this it? Is this heaven, is this hell? Will anybody turn up to my funeral? Will Jack be there?
I try to speak but the words get caught up in my throat which stings more than ever.
Beep beep beep
The hell? ...
My ears straining I can a distance mutter
Zack Merrick ... stable ... mircale
Wait a minute
"Zack, how are you?" An old man, at least in his late 40s speaks to me softly
"I ... Who are you? Are you God? I kinda expected you to have a beard."
"I'm Mr Chapman, I'm one of the senior doctors here, it's seems like you and the blade got well acquainted last night. Must admit what you managed to do with such a small knife was impressive. We almost lost you. There's a woman here to see you, says her name is Avya shall we let her in?
I try and let the information in. I'm not dead ... oh for fucks sakes.
"Yeah, sure" I mumbled.
Mr Chapman left with a nod and soon Avya came running, embracing me so hard I'm surprised she didn't crush my bones.
"You are NEVER gonna do that ever again Zacky! I'm going to be with you 24/7.I swear to God Zack I was terrified!"
"I'm sorry ... I was going to try and -"
"Excuse me Mr Merrick, there's a man named Jack here to see you" The balding doctor asks, his head poking into my room.
I was lost for words. Why would he care?
I swallowed my fear and said "Sure, send him in"
The door creaks open and Jacks slowly wanders in, looking like a little lost boy without his mum.
"Hey" He projected, his lips curl around the words. Damn those lips.
"Hi" I squeak back.
Just as awkward as always.